


A Kiss to Break the Spell

by lost_in_thyme_and_spacebars



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Regret, Vulcan Kissing, bones is mentioned but not enough to put in character list, k/s valentine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3347456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_in_thyme_and_spacebars/pseuds/lost_in_thyme_and_spacebars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock has been turned to stone, and Jim doesn't know if  he'll ever turn back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss to Break the Spell

**Author's Note:**

> No archive warnings for a reason, honest.

Looking at the stone statue in the middle of the room, Jim felt nothing. He hadn't felt anything for the last hour – not whilst transporting the few survivors from the planet’s surface onto the ship, not whilst Bones was telling him the words he should have dreaded, not even whilst moving the heavy figure into these quarters.

His legs had stopped working at some point since he’d entered the room. He just sat on the floor and stared blankly up at the face of his friend. It was a shame, he reflected, that he had been frozen like this. He should have looked serene and calm, as steady as he had been in life. Yet the expression was one of someone cut off mid yell. _Jim._

He had been planning to tell him tomorrow. He’d rehearsed it so many times in his head.

‘Spock?’ he would have said.

‘Yes, Captain?’

Jim smiled slightly, for even in his imagination Spock had been as formal as ever.

‘I've told you before, Spock. When we’re off duty its Jim’

Then the eyebrow would have raised, and the barest hint of a smile (so small that almost anyone else would have missed it) would have graced those lips. ‘Yes, Jim’

His heart melted at the thought of that smile, and the shock-built defences around his emotions threatened to crack. _Not yet, please not yet._

He would have started the chess game, because that was what they did. He would gently move his fingers until they were mere millimetres from those beautiful hands, just enough that Spock could feel the warmth radiating off of his skin. He would listen for the soft catch of breath that his first officer always tried to suppress, but he would be patient. Spock was worth waiting for.

Their eyes would meet for a second, and Jim’s hand would move back to his side of the table. This would repeat throughout the evening, each time for slightly longer - skin ghosting past skin in a way that would set his nerves alight.

‘Spock?’ he would say, putting all the warmth and love and trust and longing that he felt into that one word, hoping that his message would be received.

‘Yes, Jim?’

He would see the warmth reflected in those dark eyes and tentatively reach his hand across the table, giving Spock every chance to move away or to reject him. In his dreams this never happened, and they would caress each other’s fingers lightly in a Vulcan kiss. He would get up and walk over to his love, never breaking contact, and gently move that graceful hand to his lips. He would brush them gently across the sensitive tips, and then lean down to capture that mouth in a kiss as their hands intertwined.

Jim opened his eyes, and reality hit him square in the chest. Spock was gone. Bones had said there was nothing to be done, and if Bones had run out of options, then what hope was there? His eyes blurred with the tears that he had held back. They ran down his cheeks and darkened the material of his uniform as they fell. His hands clenched and his body shook as his heart broke. If only Spock had pushed him out of the way instead of taking the hit himself. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and Jim had made it quite clear how he felt about this before. And yet his aggravating, wonderful, loyal friend had put himself in harm’s way again, and it had cost them both everything.

He stood up unsteadily, propping himself up on Spock’s desk. What had he been thinking? Why had thought bringing Spock to his quarters had been a good idea? Everything that the man had possessed was here, filling his mind with memories and emotions that were simply not useful. He should be out with the others, taking care of the refugees – not sobbing alone over one person. He could grieve later.

He turned to head out of the door, and stopped. Before he could change his mind he walked up to the immobile figure and kissed it, pressing two fingers to the cold stone hands in farewell. The lips were unyielding and lifeless against his, as he had known they would be – the fingers were the same. He walked towards the door, preparing to face his crew. He had to be strong for them. He was their captain, after all.

‘Jim…?’

Surely his imagination wouldn't be so cruel. How would he get through this with that voice echoing in his head?

‘Jim? What…?’

He shut the door behind him, and made for the bridge.

 

~*~

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The ship was a hive of activity, and Jim’s mind had no time to wander as plans were made and people were questioned, provided for and moved around. The ship had set a course for the nearest Starbase, and should arrive within 48 hours if luck allowed. The crew had been careful around him, as if he might break at a moment’s notice. He saw the sympathetic looks aimed in his direction, heard the conversations die out and quite frankly he just wanted to be alone. He was too tired and numb to be good company to anyone.

He entered his quarters, took off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed. The blackness enveloped him before his body even hit the mattress.

*beep*

Jim groaned. He couldn't have been asleep that long, surely? He looked over at the clock. It had only been ten minutes, and what could have possibly gone wrong in that amount of time. Maybe he’d dreamt it.

*beep*

‘Enter’ he called, sitting up with a grimace. At least he was still in uniform. He looked at the doors, fully prepared to see Bones bringing updates on the casualties (and, with any luck, a strong drink). He took in the silhouette in the entrance, and his heart sank. He _was_ still dreaming. That was the only explanation for what he was seeing.

‘Jim? Are you alright?’

He just stared at the figure, willing it to fade away. He didn't want this. Not tonight, when the pain was still so raw.

‘Jim?’ it moved towards him, and he flinched back in spite of himself.

‘You aren't real. Leave me alone.’

Its mouth dropped open slightly in shock, and its eyes widened fractionally.

‘Jim. What happened? Did you manage to get everyone to safety?’

‘I said leave!’ he yelled, startling even himself. ‘Just leave. I've already lost you once today, I can’t do it again’. His voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes furiously as they stung with tears. Why was he putting himself through this? Surely one night of dreamless sleep wasn't too much to ask.

He felt the _thing_ get nearer, and his body tensed up as it knelt in front of him. Then he felt it: the warmth of skin near skin, ghosting over his shaking hands. They weren't touching, but he felt the slow, gentle movement that his mind had imagined so many times before. His breath hitched, and his tears fell on the hands covering his own.

‘Jim, look at me.’

He raised his head slowly, and looked into the eyes that he should never have been able to see again. They were softer than he remembered.

‘Why did you leave?’

‘Nnn?’ No one could expect him to be articulate under the circumstances, but the confusion on his face spoke for itself.

‘You kissed me, Jim, and then you left. I called out to you. I would have followed you but I didn't have the strength. It took this long to be sure of reaching you.’  The hands had stilled at the touch of Jim’s tears, but they were moving again now in soothing patterns. They still weren't touching him.

‘I thought I was hallucinating. I am hallucinating. Aren't I?’

‘No, Jim.’ The hands hesitated for a moment, before the index and middle finger lowered to touch his. The pressure brought him out of his trance. The hands were soft, warm and gloriously real. He turned his hand over, palm facing upwards, and pressed back. He caught the relief and affection that flickered across the face opposite him and his face broke into a joyous smile. This was _his_ Spock. He was alive.

Spock’s eyebrows rose and Jim realised he was laughing, despite the tears still rolling down his cheeks.

‘Illogical’ came the response, the undercurrent of amusement in the word making his world brighten even further. He felt lips against his fingers, and felt the smile gracing them as tiny kisses were pressed to his hands.

‘Yes’ he said, as he leaned down to kiss him properly. Their fingers rested intertwined in his lap.

 

 

 


End file.
